


A Matter of Some Urgency

by Navigatrix



Category: Black Sails
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27281950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Navigatrix/pseuds/Navigatrix
Summary: A prequel to @ifinkufreaky’s Heart of Admiration series, in which Charles Vane meets Hope Wickham for the first time.Nobody steals from Charles Vane and gets away with it...right?
Relationships: Charles Vane & Original Character(s), Charles Vane/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	A Matter of Some Urgency

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Heart of Admiration](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24341695) by [ifinkufreaky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/pseuds/ifinkufreaky). 



Charles Vane notices her entrance. It would have been difficult not to. It's not rare to see women in the tavern, but they are typically working there in some capacity. They do not typically wear a pistol at the waist of their rather fitted sea coat, nor walk with the rolling gait of an experienced sailor, nor carry a navigator's backstaff. Her eyes fall on him, and Vane finds his own eyes following the almost arrogant swing of her hips as she approaches his table in an alcove at the rear of the room.

"Captain Vane?" Her voice is slightly husky, educated but not posh, not snooty.

He nods, and she continues. "I'm quartermaster of the _Starling_. I believe you're expecting me." When DeGroot told Vane that the quartermaster of a recently-arrived crew was seeking a word with him about a _matter of some urgency_ , the bloody man had failed to mention that said quartermaster was a woman, and a damned comely one at that.

She removes the pistol and long knife from her belt and places them on the table in front of him, a sign that she has come in peace. He gestures for her to sit across from him and signals the barmaid to bring her a drink then gives her a hard look from beneath his brow. "What's this about?"

"A certain item of yours has come into my possession. I'm here to return it to you." She hands him a burlap sack containing his black. She had been appalled when a couple of the more rambunctious members of her crew came back to camp having stolen it from the _Ranger_. It wouldn't do for them, new to Nassau, to start their time here by making an enemy of the most notoriously violent captain on the island.

Vane looks inside the sack, not wanting to remove the flag and thus show anyone in the tavern that it had been stolen. Instead, he runs his hands over its fabric, ensuring that it's no worse for wear than it had been before it was stolen. Having satisfied himself that it hadn't been vandalized and noting that it had been folded with care, he turns that heavy gaze back to her. "What do they call you, quartermaster of the _Starling_?"

She meets his piercing stare with her own, unflinching. "They probably call me a lot of things when I can't hear them." Furious though he is that anyone had the fucking gall to not only steal from him but steal the very symbol of his hard-earned reputation at that, Vane has to force himself not to smile at her quip. She holds out a graceful, callused hand for a shake. "Hope Wickham."

"Why did your captain send you, Miss Wickham, instead of approaching me himself?"

She frowns, but doesn't rise to the bait. "He didn't send me," she says coolly. "He has no idea any of this happened. I'm meeting with you of my own accord and in my own capacity to try to protect my crew."

Vane takes a long pull on his ale, waiting for her to explain.

"I may be new to Nassau, but I'm by no means new to the account. Captain Fisher and the rest of the crew are used to doing things a certain way, and don't yet understand that Nassau has rather different understandings of acceptable behavior for those under the black than does Tortuga. On Tortuga, this would be seen as a prank by a new crew seeking to position itself and a score easily settled without much bloodshed. Unlike them, I know that is not the way of things here."

Vane narrows his eyes. "How do you know how we do things here?" And how, he wonders, did such a lovely little thing become a pirate in the first place? For her crew to have elected her quartermaster, she must be formidable…

"I apprenticed with Mr. DeGroot. We stay in touch." The corners of her mouth turn up in a wry smile, eyes alight in amusement at the absurdity of the situation. "I realize that he is nobody's first, second, or tenth choice for a tutor in etiquette, but," she gestures broadly, "we live in a world of wonders."

Vane finds himself smiling back at her, ever so slightly, struck as much by her candor and wit as by her appearance. "So you're a trained navigator, then?"

"I am."

Well. This is interesting indeed. But he can't let himself be distracted from the purpose of this meeting. The smile drops from his face, which returns to its customary scowl, and he hunches forward enough to give the impression of looming over her without getting up. "Members of _your_ crew snuck onto my ship, stole my black, and they did it so badly that someone saw them getting away. So let me tell you what happens next."

Hope doesn't quail from his ferocious growl, from his coiled posture that makes him appear to be a predator about to pounce. She meets his icy glare directly. "Who saw them?"

"My quartermaster and his matelotage." Did she just…did she just _ignore_ his directive, his implied threats?

She tilts her head, considering. "Anyone else?"

Vane grunts and leans back in his chair. "No."

Hope nods to herself. "Can you trust their discretion?"

"With my life." Oh, he sees where she's taking this line of questioning. Barristers would do well to learn from her technique. "You're going to ask who else on my crew knows it was gone."

She shrugs as if to say _you caught me_. "Well, who else does?"

"Only them." She opens her mouth to speak but he cuts her off. "Regardless, you know I cannot let your crew's insult go unanswered. I’ve a reputation to maintain, a captaincy I do not intend to lose."

"Nor do I expect you to. However, by returning your black undamaged, along with compensation for the," she pauses and bites her lip, considering her next words, "inconvenience you've been put through by this unfortunate breach of propriety, I trust this need not be a killing offense." She takes a bulging coin purse from her coat pocket and pushes it across the table to him.

Vane opens it and quirks a scarred brow at the amount of coin within. "Is this from the _Starling_ 's collective savings?"

"No. It's my personal share from our last prize." Earners, then, and sure to be rivals of the _Ranger_. He had seen Captain Fisher at the warehouse a couple of times, and he couldn't say the man had impressed him. Perhaps their last prize was simply luck. How the fuck had Fisher convinced a woman like Hope -- like _Miss_ _Wickham_ , he mentally corrects himself -- to join his crew? One of those wonders of the world, he supposes.

He places both hands on the table and leans forward abruptly. Hope's large eyes widen slightly, not in alarm, Vane notes with approval, but in assessing the threat. His voice drops to a near-whisper. "My turn to ask the questions. Who else knows that your crew had my black?"

She leans forward as well, close enough that Vane catches the scent of the jasmine oil in her hair. "As far as I know, nobody." Her voice is equally low, matter-of-fact. "My crew hasn't bragged, because they didn't get a chance to parade your colors on the beach. I made certain of that. And they won't now, not after I've relieved them of it. The ones who took your black are young and foolish. I've revoked their shore privileges for the time being, until they can show they won’t be shitheads to other crews if they come into town."

Vane knows something about being young and foolish and making a mistake. Sometimes one's youthful foolishness isn't so easily atoned for, some damages can't be repaired…

"They know you're returning it to me?"

Most people would have been unable to meet his heavy gaze for this long. "Yes. If they don't like it, they can elect a new quartermaster. However, they agreed when I explained my reasoning as to why keeping it would not be in their best interests."

"And DeGroot. Does he know why you asked him to arrange a meeting?"

"He didn't ask. I didn't tell." She gives a short laugh, eyes shining with mischief. “I let him think I'm here to ask you for a job, just to irritate him."

It would be so easy to accept her money then wreak bloody havoc in the _Starling_ 's camp as a warning, but Vane finds himself reluctant to end the meeting. It was masterful, the way she'd gotten to the core of the issue, convinced him of their common interest, and dissuaded him from violence, and it was brave of her to approach him alone. A man couldn't help admiring her for that. And a trained navigator, to boot -- she'd be an asset to any crew. Perhaps he would have to make her an offer at some point…

He pushes the purse back across the table to Hope. "Keep it. Buy the next round and we'll call it square."


End file.
